


Promises Made To Be Broken

by devylish



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Female Character of Color, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devylish/pseuds/devylish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously posted on FF net, moving over here onto AAOOO.</p>
<p>Martha realizes that some promises are meant to be broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises Made To Be Broken

written for LJ's comment_fic, prompt: Dr. Who, Martha/?, she locks the door behind her,

* * *

The fact that he hadn't called her...?

...The fact that he hadn't tucked his head outside of the blue doors, a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes...?

Spoke more loudly to her than any words he could have used.

Their – his and The Tardis' – silent presence spoke volumes.

The man who had never been at a loss for words; who could talk his way 'out of' and 'in to' any situation he desired... had no words.

 

His silence called to her.

 

And his silence was the reason she now stood just outside of the Tardis - so blatantly planted in her mother's backyard - key in hand.

She'd promised herself she wouldn't be sucked back in. Wouldn't just 'jump' the next time he appeared and tried to talk her into visiting some: time/thing/one.

But that was just it, yeah? This time, he wasn't trying to talk her in to anything.

He'd been there, in the garden, for a day. He and the blue box – silent as a tomb.

And it was his silence that spoke to her. The Doctor wanted/needed her.

 

Blowing out a puff of air, she centered the key in the lock, turned her hand, and pushed into the Tardis.

The ship hummed warmly, purring a note of welcome at Martha's entrance before lighting a path down the hall that led to the sleeping quarters, wordlessly telling Martha where the Doctor was.

Pulling her scarf off and hanging it next to the Doctor's jacket – it smelled of him: cardamon, metal, a bit of tweed – she locked the door behind her.

Then, pausing just long enough to gently caress the Tardis' control panel, Martha headed down the hall to The Doctor.

 

To her doctor.


End file.
